A Promise of Spring

Author: Mary Balogh
Publication Date: 1990
Setting: Regency England

Five years after A Chance Encounter, Balogh published A Promise of Spring, the tear-jerking tale of a convenient marriage between a young baronet and an older clergyman's sister. But is it the kind of tear-jerker where you feel good and catharsis-ized at the end, or the kind where you feel angry and cheated because you spent ninety minutes laughing at Love Story and now you're crying, even though you think the main character is a douche for not telling his wife she has cancer? (Seriously, dude, she's going to figure it out eventually.) There's only one way to find out!

What Happens?

A Promise of Spring begins with the death of the Reverend Paul Howard, a young impoverished rector in a quiet English village. After he sacrifices his own life to save two children from an angry bull (because TB is so passé), it seems that Grace, his older sister and housekeeper, will be left alone and destitute. While the villagers brainstorm ways to help her, the tragically-named Sir Peregrine Lampman does what nobody expects: asks her to marry him.

Grace is as shocked as anyone else. While she’s attractive and well-liked by her neighbors, she’s thirty-five years old, solidly middle-aged by Regency standards. In contrast, Sir Peregrine is a handsome, popular, rich baronet…who happens to be ten years her junior. Perry says he doesn’t care about all of that. He respects her for her dignity and housekeeping skills.

Undaunted by his poetry, Grace proceeds to drop these truth bombs on him:

(1) Years ago, she bore a son out of wedlock.

(2) When her son was four, he drowned in a pond because the subpar governess neglected him in favor of his legit cousins.

(3) Following this tragedy, Grace’s family proved themselves to be subpar as well by saying that it was for the best that her son died, because of Society. The Reverend Paul was so shocked by this callousness that he brought Grace to live with him and disowned the rest of his family.

The rest is depressing, depressing history.

“Oh, yeah?” Perry responds. “That just makes me respect you even more.”  

“Fine, I’ll marry you,” Grace says, because she’s too tired to Do the Right Thing by Not Marrying Him. Why is marrying him the wrong thing to do? Well, it’s partly because her chances of giving him an heir aren’t great, but you’ll have to wait a few chapters to find out the rest.

Although the neighbors are skeptical about this June-September marriage of convenience, Grace and Perry find friendship and affection  with each other. The sex isn’t bad, either. They even visit her dad, older brother, and sister-in-law at the old family estate.

“I’m sorry that we were completely unsympathetic when your only child died,” says her sister-in-law. “I was just jealous of you because everybody liked you more than me, even though you were reckless, disagreeably headstrong, and a disgrace to the family.”

“That’s okay,” says Grace. “We all make mistakes. Anyway, I was difficult to get along with.”

I’m going to stop my summary to point out that this is bullshit. I’m all in favor of acknowledging the heroine’s flaws, plus this Prodigal Son dynamic is quite interesting. Still, it seems déclassé to outline your sister-in-law’s shortcomings when talking about her only child who died as an indirect result of your attitude towards him. I cannot believe that Grace is cool with this fake apology, but apparently this asinine conversation brings an end to all conflict with her family.

That’s when Gareth, the dude who knocked up Grace all those years ago, shows up. It turns out that he refused to marry her because he had a richer girl in mind. I’m going to call shenanigans on this development, too. Gareth impregnated a girl who was (1) his childhood sweetheart, (2) a perfectly acceptable match for him, given that she was a baron’s daughter and he was a viscount’s heir, (3) not poor, and (4) somebody with whom he’d had great sex. Even if he was a big enough asshole to have a problem with marrying her, I have a hard time believing that his dad and her dad were unable or unwilling to pressure him into Doing the Right Thing.

Anyway, Gareth is a rich widower now. There might be rumors that he murdered his wife, but he doesn’t let that get him down. He’s far too busy putting the moves on Grace.

“I’ve made a huge mistake,” he whispers in her ear, serpent-like. “We should totally move in together, even though you’d be ruined in the eyes of Society! What do you mean, your husband won’t like it? He’s twenty-five; he can’t handle a sexy mature woman like you. Remember how we used to bone passionately? Remember how I impregnated and abandoned you to bear a son who eventually died because nobody in your family could be bothered to look after an illegitimate child? Apparently, that’s not an instant boner-killer for me.”

Metaphorically speaking, it’s not an instant boner-killer for Grace, either. She’s definitely not about to fall in love with Gareth again, but his words cast doubt on her relationship with Perry. Is their age difference too great? Do they really have anything in common? He seems to get along better with Priscilla, her annoying young niece who’s always “casually” pointing out their age difference.

Perry’s feeling insecure, too. He’s convinced that the hulking, thirty-something Gareth has a cock, while he just has a wee-wee. Also, Grace kind-of-sort-of led him to believe that Gareth died in the Napoleonic Wars. She actually meant that Gareth was dead to her for abandoning her pregnant self, but Perry didn’t pick up on that linguistic subtlety and now he’s suspicious of his wife’s true affections.

The couple manages to carry on in a civil if not affectionate manner. Grace unexpectedly becomes pregnant and they retire to the country for Christmas so she can get some rest. Unable to take a fucking hint, Gareth shows up at their estate and gives Grace a letter that contains an indecent proposal. She shows it to Perry, who somehow doesn’t pick up Gareth’s “pushy stalker who might have murdered his wife” vibe and tells her to follow her heart, even if it means shacking up with her frankly terrifying old flame when she’s almost ready to give birth to a baby she made with her husband . At this point, Perry’s respect for Grace seems to have morphed into total apathy.

“Gee, thanks a lot,” Grace probably thinks. Then she goes out into the snow-covered garden, where Gareth is waiting, and tells him that she doesn’t care about him enough to hate him.

“Aw, man,” says Gareth, before he slinks away forever.

That’s when Grace goes back inside and tells Perry she loves him. Perry responds in kind, the baby is born healthy a little while later, and “Running Scared” by Roy Orbison plays in the background.

Is It Any Good?

Overall, A Promise of Spring is a solid romance. In many ways, Grace and Perry’s relationship is refreshing. There’s actually a fairly significant age difference between them, something that cannot be said of many older-woman/younger-man romances. I’m also very fond of romances in which the reasonable, sweet-natured gentleman proves to be more of a hero than the angry, brooding douchebag.  Finally, I like how their insecurities about their marriage mirror each other. She’s afraid that she’s keeping him from enjoying life as a young man, while he’s nervous about not being mature enough for her. Theirs is a very two-sided relationship.

Gareth, the villain, isn’t quite as effective. His audacious self-regard and scary possessiveness are fascinating at times, but, at others, he just seems like a silly, none-too-bright third wheel. The novel might be more effective if he were less of an ex-stalking, wife-murdering Gaston, and more of a man wracked by guilt and grief over the woman he foolishly abandoned and the son he’ll never know. If Grace had to choose between a good, sweet man who represented her future and a flawed, genuinely tormented man with strong ties to her past, I’d care far more about the outcome. Plus, that Gareth would be great sequel bait.

I’ve discussed some other problems in the summary. Most are minor, but I find it fairly galling how the death of Jeremy, Grace’s late son, is downplayed. At the beginning of the novel, Grace seems to believe strongly that her family’s disdain for Jeremy contributed to his death, but by the time she visits her family, she’s telling her sister-in-law  that it could have happened to any of the children. There’s no real explanation for her sudden change of heart, so it seems to me like Grace’s family is getting off the hook for serious neglect. Balogh often tries to humanize her unsympathetic characters by explaining their actions, but it doesn’t work here.

Still, the relationship between the two main characters gives A Promise of Spring a strong core, in spite of some significant problems.

Recommended If: You like older-woman/younger-man romances. You like angst. You were really into Lord Carew’s Bride and want to read something similar. You like it when the amiable gentleman comes out on top.

Similarities to Other Books

• ·         Like Elizabeth in A Chance Encounter, Grace has a Dark Past.
• ·         Also like Elizabeth, Grace was Dumped for Not Being Rich Enough.
• 
  

 Next Time: The Secret Pearl

A Chance Encounter

Author: Mary Balogh

Publication Date: 1985

Setting: Regency England

If I had to name my favorite romance author, it would be Mary Balogh. She may not be the writer who has pleased me the most consistently--I've read four books by her that I thought were downright bad, plus a few more mediocre ones--but she is the writer that I'll always come back to, because most of the time, she's amazing. 

In this blog, I'm going to write reviews of all the Balogh novels I've read. When I run out, I'll move on to another author, but that won't be for a while.

And now for A Chance Encounter, one of Balogh's first novels. Be wary that I discuss the entire plot, which, in this case, includes a legitimately exciting plot twist. Only read this post if you have already read this book, never want to read this book, or don't mind knowing the plots of books before you read them.

What Happens?

Like Pride and Prejudice, A Chance Encounter opens with rumors of a handsome, wealthy gentleman arriving in a quiet country town. Flighty young Cecily Rowe and her devoted mama are all a-flutter about William Mainwaring and his glittering crowd of aristocratic friends, but her philosophical father and reserved governess-turned-companion, Elizabeth Rossiter, react more stoically to the news. Still, Cecily’s father insists that Cecily and the gray-clad Elizabeth have pretty new dresses to mark the occasion.

After some protest, Elizabeth chooses a (relatively) festive blue pattern. She’s an attractive but subdued gal with a quiet sense of humor and, the narration heavily implies, a Dark Past. Unfortunately for her, this Dark Past happens to be William Mainwaring’s snooty dude-bro, the Marquess of Hetherington, who is also visiting the neighborhood. Back when she was a poor lass with an unfashionable enthusiasm for her first Season, Hetherington was just Robert Denning, a young aristocrat financially dependent on his Shady Titled Uncle. They fell deeply in love and (I imagine) made out behind large potted plants in ballrooms, but their passion ended in disaster. What kind of disaster, you ask? You’ll have to wait several more flashbacks to find out.

Hetherington is a dick to Elizabeth throughout the visit, flirting outrageously with the naïve Cecily and an aristocratic woman (who says almost everything “shrilly,” by the way) just to provoke her. Through gritted teeth, he makes icy comments about her stubborn, mercenary nature and eventually threatens to sabotage Elizabeth’s relationship with William Mainwaring, who has developed a tendre for her. Understandably, Elizabeth isn’t very well-disposed towards Hetherington, either. Their animosity grows until the whole thing devolves into Punishing Kisses on a deserted hillside. You know, as these things tend to do.

Yet not everything is as it seems. After Elizabeth gets an urgent letter about her little nephew’s potentially fatal illness, Hetherington offers to take her to her brother’s house in his carriage. When Elizabeth’s employers and neighbors object to the impropriety of this scheme, Hetherington tells them that it’s not improper at all, because…DUN DUN DUN…Elizabeth is his wife! And he’s not lying or anything! She’s literally the Marchioness of Hetherington and nobody knew it!

In fact, Elizabeth didn’t really know it, either. She’s been under the impression that he divorced her shortly after their elopement years ago, shattering her heart into a million bits. She’s very confused, but she also wants to see her dangerously ill nephew, so she just goes with it. Later, though, after her nephew has recovered and she’s had time to think, she wonders if it might be possible to give her marriage another go, given that Hetherington was so kind and she might, you know, still actually be married.

She writes Hetherington some cautious letters of inquiry; however, they go unanswered. Taking another job as a governess, she resolves to lock up her heart and throw away the key, but then Hetherington shows up and is like, “Just wait five fucking seconds, Miss Havisham! I didn’t get your letters because I was busy investigating the true cause of our tragic separation. Let’s live together as husband and wife, for real this time!”

(It turns out that his Shady Titled Uncle deceived him into thinking Elizabeth had run off and then paid her Mercenary Father to trick her into thinking they were divorced, in case you were wondering. And it only took the two lovers six years to figure it out, even though divorce during the Regency was always a scandalous and very public affair. What a couple of menschen!)

“No, I can never believe in love again!” Elizabeth protests, because of…well, reasons, I guess.

Exhausted by the machinations of the plot, Hetherington simply tricks her into going on a second honeymoon with him, banishing her doubts about love forever. They both live happily ever after, or at least until he goes out for a beer and she assumes that he’s turning into a werewolf, condemning their love to the shadows because Regency England isn’t yet ready for werewolf/human marriages. Puritans.

Is It Any Good?

A Chance Encounter is an interesting book, in that it manages to be clever and stupid all at once. The parallels with Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion, another Austen novel about reunited lovers, aren’t derivative so much as they are fun. Balogh only uses little details from the two books—the heroine’s name, the dynamics of the Rowe family, and the two incidental rivals, to name a few—and the end result is a charming Austen pastiche. The ending, although potentially problematic, functions well as a reference to an earlier Regency romance, Georgette Heyer’s Black Sheep. The twist that comes in the middle of the story is genuinely surprising and imbues previous events with new implications. For example, Elizabeth isn’t just jealous of Cecily when Hetherington flirts with her; she also wants to protect her sixteen-year-old charge from a man she believes to be a proven deserter. Innovative touches like these, as well as the genuinely sweet relationship between Elizabeth and her brother, make it easy to believe that Balogh wrote amazing books like The Secret Pearl just five years later.

The plot, however, is held together by rampant stupidity or, alternatively, laziness on the part of the characters. Hetherington and Elizabeth were deeply in love, newly eloped, and having awesome, discreetly-depicted sex, but they apparently never thought to look each other up after their relatives told them, “Nope, she/he suddenly wants nothing to do with you ever again.” Wouldn’t they at least want to yell at each other? Furthermore, why does Elizabeth persist in believing they’re divorced when she has so little proof? It’s understandable that the devastated, innocent eighteen-year-old Elizabeth  was too confused to figure it out, but didn’t she ever wonder, in the six years that followed, why Parliament never got involved at all?

Come to think of it, Hetherington’s uncle’s dastardly scheme doesn’t make much sense, either. I can see why he’d want his nephew to marry a richer girl, but a poor, genteel young wife is hardly worse than essentially no wife, which is what Hetherington gets. He’s still married to Elizabeth, so he can’t marry somebody else and beget an heir to the title. There’s no motive for the uncle to pay Elizabeth’s family to keep her away, unless he wants his nephew to be unhappy—or is incestuously fixated on him, I suppose—but he’s not portrayed as spiteful or creepy; he’s just a status- and money-obsessed aristocrat.

Despite these contrivances, A Chance Encounter is generally an enjoyable book. I might not recommend it to the general romance fan, but if you’re a traditional Regency aficionado, a Balogh completist, or an appreciator of ludicrously contrived plots, I think you’ll have quite a good time. 

Next Time: A Promise of Spring